


Silver

by MercurySkies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair Washing, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mild Smut, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: “Victor.” Yuuri’s voice calls to him from across the ice. They’re the only ones left at the rink and Victor can see the darkening sky from the vaulted windows. “It’s getting late, Vitya.” Yuuri gentles. Victor tilts his head back, feeling his hair fall away from his face. He reaches his hands out to the sky above him and smiles at the fact he doesn’t have to ask Yuuri to press play. The music starts and he starts to skate, arms still reaching toward the sky. Once more, show them who you are.Sometimes Yuuri meets Victor where he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Victor's hair. So does my version of Yuuri. It's been a long time since I've written anything even closely resembling smut so I apologise in advance! Please enjoy!

 

“Your hair’s getting long.” Yuuri hums as he threads his fingers through Victor’s silver hair, now just long enough to brush his shoulders.

“It grows quickly.” He replies distractedly, eyes blinking slowly. He looks up at Yuuri from his position underneath him on the couch of their apartment. “Should I cut it?” He asks and Yuuri shrugs, twirling a shiny tendril around his finger. “Do you like it long?” He replies simply. Victor thinks for a moment.

 

He had loved his hair long, the whip of it through the air behind him as he glided across the ice. He liked that there were so many different things he could do with it, make himself look different with every style he tried. He liked the allure it gave him, young and lithe, melding the masculine and feminine until he found the balance that was comfortable, that spoke to him. He liked feeling it slide and stick across his shoulders and back when he was naked, reveled in it being tugged, being pulled to right where he wanted to be.

 

There were downsides. The upkeep could be hellish, hairspray and pins became almost as much of a threat as his fellow skaters at competitions. He always ran the risk of whipping himself in the eye with the ends of a ponytail whilst skating or worse, get it caught in his costume or skates. Still, the practical pitfalls of a luxurious mane didn’t stop him from winning any gold medals. They didn’t compare to how something so simple could make him feel.

 

“I like it long.” Yuuri says, blushing and breaking Victor’s brief silence. He runs his hand through it, palm grazing Victor’s forehead as he sinks his fingers in deep, gently grasping a fistful of the locks at his nape, forcing Victor’s head back. “I like it shorter too,” he whispers and the mood has shifted, Victor shivers “but I like having you like this.” He presses an open mouthed kiss to Victor’s throat and he swallows hard in response. “Well,” Victor starts but Yuuri scrapes his teeth gently over his adam’s apple and he twitches. The movement tugs at his hair and he hisses, delighted, “if it's more convenient for you.” He finishes breathily. The moan that stutters out of him when Yuuri tugs purposefully this time rewards him with the sight of his smirk.

 

* * *

 

“You look younger with long hair.” Yuuri muses as Victor skates toward him at the edge of the rink, he’s just finished a run through of his new short programme and he can feel his hair, tacky with sweat, sticking to the base of his neck. He stops and pouts, flicking his hair, over his shoulder melodramatically. “Are you saying I look old with short hair?” Yuuri just laughs at him. “No, you know I think you’re stunning either way.” He pauses and laughs again as Victor preens at the compliment. He will always preen if Yuuri has found the courage to flatter him so shamelessly. “But I dunno,” he continues “you just do.”

 

“I feel free.” Victor admits and it feels weirdly like a confession even though it's just hair. “It makes no sense. You’d think it would weigh me down but I feel lighter with long hair.”

“I understand.” Yuuri says with a soft smile and he reaches out to curl a stray tendril around Victor’s ear.

 

The truth is, he thinks as he pushes away from the boards and starts to skate again, that it makes him feel more himself. Victor doesn’t let his appearance bother him most of the time, he knows he’s in good shape and easy on the eyes. What is important is how he chooses to present himself. His early career was so consumed by following instruction, putting in the groundwork to become great that he barely felt like a person half the time. As he matured, showed his skill, his true potential, he became strong, started to learn what parts of himself he was unwilling to compromise on. If he wanted a certain combination in his programme he would have it, if he wanted to wear his hair long he would. It was just a part of growing up, learning how to express yourself, who you were. He cultivated a presentation of himself, of who he thought he was through the clothes he liked to wear, the way he carried himself as he grew into his height and lean muscle. He had control over who he was and though his taste in fashions changed the length of his hair didn’t. Until of course it did.

 

Victor, self assured Victor, could panic too. He cut his hair in a moment of panic. Just before he was due to start the season of his fifth gold medal win. Something had changed within him in his off time, an empty feeling had started to creep in, making him feel inhuman in a way he hadn’t felt since the beginning of his career. He felt his sense of self slipping, uncomfortable in his skin and desperate to discover what had changed all the while not knowing that nothing had and that that was the problem. He’d hacked through it with a tiny pair of scissors, the kind you get in travel manicure sets. It took around an hour to get it all choppily to chin length and all the while he told himself he felt lighter with each strand that fell to the sink, that his true self was being revealed in the reflection of the fogged up hotel bathroom mirror. When he was done he cleared away the hair and went to bed, sure that in the morning he would feel content again. He didn’t and remained stone faced as he asked a barber to just fix it.

 

“Victor.” Yuuri’s voice calls to him from across the ice. They’re the only ones left at the rink and Victor can see the darkening sky from the vaulted windows. “It’s getting late, Vitya.” Yuuri gentles. Victor tilts his head back, feeling his hair fall away from his face. He reaches his hands out to the sky above him and smiles at the fact he doesn’t have to ask Yuuri to press play. The music starts and he starts to skate, arms still reaching toward the sky. _Once more, show them who you are_.

 

Victor skates now with new feeling, showing the world parts of himself he’d previously kept hidden. Surprising the audience anew. It’s one of the many things he’s learned from Yuuri. He skates with the same whimsy, the same passion but it can be so tender, so anguished, so elated that if onlookers were not enraptured they would have to look away because of the force of it.

 

The piece concludes, the final pose sees Victor looking to the side, following the line of his left arm as his right is extended in front of him. He’s smiling, content. The light in Yuuri’s eyes is all he needs to bolster him as he leaves the ice. They gather their things and leave, deciding to wash away the toil of practice when they get home. Yuuri smiles at him, haloed by the setting sun and takes his hand. Victor kisses him, a whispered ‘thank you’ is pressed tenderly against Yuuri’s lips. Swinging their joined hands between them as they walk Victor pleads with a pout “will you wash my hair tonight?” to which Yuuri simply replies with a laugh and a good natured tug on a silvery strand.

 

* * *

 

He sits, hips bracketed by Yuuri’s legs, in his admittedly lavish bath tub. His head is tilted back as Yuuri runs deft fingers through his hair, swathing it in apple scented conditioner. He sighs, eyes slipping closed as he slumps back against his chest, enveloped  in warm soapy goodness. Yuuri huffs against him, one arm snaking around his waist, warm hand resting gently on his stomach as the other coifs the front of his hair. Victor doesn’t stop him, just snorts quietly and drops his head to his shoulder. He brings a hand up to play with the wet hair at the nape of Yuuri’s neck and he’s rewarded with a tilt of his head and a kiss being pressed to his jaw. “I really must be your biggest fan.” Yuuri mutters sounding amused against Victor’s temple. Victor opens his eyes to give him a look that clearly says ‘you’re only just realising this now?’

 

Yuuri rolls his eyes and swats playfully at Victor’s thigh. It takes him by surprise and he jolts a little, water sloshing over the side of the tub as his hips shift back against Yuuri’s and oh _hello_. Victor stretches luxuriously as he leans back again, making sure to shift just so and preens at Yuuri’s low hiss. “I look ridiculous.” He can see a misty image of himself in the mirror opposite the tub, covered in suds and sporting a now slightly limp Mohawk. Yuuri’s gaze is intense but there is a shy, teasing glint there too. His hands slip through the bubbles to grip at Victor’s hips “I must be your biggest fan to be this turned on when you look this ridiculous.”

 

Victor gasps in mock offense, delighted that Yuuri is unreserved in this moment, teasing and open, letting Victor know how much he wants him. Victor struggles to sit up, he gasps as if mortally wounded but never quite makes it upright. His gasp devolves into a moan as Yuuri’s hand grips tighter at his hip, pulling him flush against him, the hot, hard press of him against the small of his back. Victor licks his lips and Yuuri chases water droplets across his chest, his clavicle, his neck with his fingertips before his hand delves into the slick strands of Victor’s mussed hair and tugs. Victor’s reaction is immediate. Throat bared, Victor hums and arches his back grinding against him. Yuuri’s groan stutters into a chuckle and Victor laughs too, Victor can’t help himself, he’s shameless and they both adore it. Victor grins as Yuuri slips against him, biting at his exposed neck.

 

He can feel Yuuri’s laughter vibrate where his lips are pressed to his skin, can feel it rumble through his chest where it is pressed against his back. More water escapes the bath and splashes against the tiles. Victor barely notices, drowning in the feeling of Yuuri’s hands on him.

 

* * *

 

Victor is only ever at anyone’s mercy in private, which generally means he is only ever at Yuuri’s mercy. Victor has no qualms with wearing his heart on his sleeve, he wears his emotions honestly even if his extroversion and ample charm leave people wondering if he’s sincere. If they saw him with Yuuri they would have no need to wonder.

 

He blinks blearily at their reflection, tired from a hard day's work at the rink. He is not as young as he used to be, he doesn’t possess the stamina Yuuri has so he’s always a little wearier on days such as these. Victor is sat on the floor, his feet curled beneath him, swathed in the softest of his sweaters, cashmere and blush pink. Yuuri kneels behind him on their bed, brush in hand as he strokes through Victor’s damp hair, alternating between the brush and his own strong and gentle fingers. Victor hums voice low and his eyes half open “you spoil me Yuuri” he says with a small smile, watching as Yuuri’s serene and focused eyes meet his in the mirror. He feels so safe, so steadied by that gaze.

 

“I like taking care of you.” Yuuri says quietly, assured, and it still surprises Victor every time. Yuuri blushes at a touch, at the playfulness of flirting but he approaches declarations unabashed. Victor will think it, show it but Yuuri just says it. Warmth heats his face and he knows he’s blushing, it blooms high on his cheeks and even reddens his nose slightly and his gaze drops from Yuuri’s. He just gazes unseeing at their reflections relishing that pleasant fuzzy feeling settling in his chest.

 

“I can take care of myself.” Victor says, trying to sound lighthearted but failing slightly. Yuuri stops his ministrations and smiles at him, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed. “But you shouldn’t have to, not all the time.” Victor makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, much more comfortable taking care of Yuuri, being his coach, pushing him to achieve his best, worshipping him when he feels unworthy. Yuuri tuts frustrated, he tugs on Victor’s hair and relishes the gasp that escapes him. He pulls a fistful of silver strands until his head is tilted up, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. “Do you know why I do things like this?” Yuuri asks him seriously as his free hand pets at the hair that has fallen from Victor’s face, his other full of soft tendrils, holding him in place. “Because I would complain relentlessly if you didn’t.” Victor tries, his mouth curving into a cheeky smile but his breath is coming quicker, his eyes darkening.

 

“No” Yuuri says and tugs again. Victor’s body strains at the angle, back arched and throat bared. It pulls at his aching muscles but it feels good, he’s right where he wants to be. Yuuri’s expression is stern but he is still gentle, the soft stroke of his hand threading through his hair combined with the sharp sting of the motions of the other silences Victor. “It’s because I- I get to see you like this.” The stutter breaks Yuuri’s stern visage slightly but Victor can still see the satisfied gleam in his eyes, knows now that he does this because he adores Victor but also because of something more visceral. Because the world adores Victor but they will never have him like this.

 

As if to prove his point, Yuuri stands, the hand in Victor’s hair leading him to his knees and round to face the mirror again. He lets out a loud whimper, hands clenching into fists as a shiver runs through him. He knows he looks a mess, doesn’t need to see it to know but it’s what Yuuri wants and Victor doesn't want to deny him. He looks to Yuuri first, looking up at his dark eyes watching him intently in the full length mirror. He surveys him, breathing just as quick as Victor’s own. His gaze drops to his hips, can see the bulge in Yuuri’s loose fitting lounge pants. The fingers in his hair tighten slightly and Victor snaps his gaze up, sees the small smile on Yuuri’s face, a salacious, wicked curl of his lips.

 

“Vitya.” Yuuri says, and it is quiet but his voice is pitched low. The utterance of his name marks the boundary of whatever it is they’ve started. It is what Yuuri will allow, if Victor wants it and Victor _wants_.

 

The hand in his hair loosens a little and Victor bites his lip as he turns to face himself in the mirror. His skin is flushed, a dappled pink from his cheeks to his clavicle. His eyes are dark and furtive, wild. His sweater is rumpled having fallen from his shoulder and his body is pulled taught, up on his knees and exposed. His eyes locate the hand in his hair and the breath shudders from him. His hair is a mess, half of it wrapped around Yuuri’s fingers, the other half falling into his eyes, tangled and dishevelled. He drops his gaze, the image of his own debauched self plain evidence of how much he loves to be at Yuuri’s mercy.

 

“Please.” He breathes out, heart pounding in his ears and Yuuri moves in front of him, one hand still buried in his hair as the other brushes a thumb across Victor’s cheek. He rests his head against Yuuri’s hip, his hand spreading out against the other as the breath shudders out of him. He can feel his abdomen tense as Victor’s fingertips slide across the waistband of his pants, blue eyes blinking slowly. He looks up as Yuuri huffs a breath out through his nose.

 

Victor’s eyes meet his and Yuuri’s breath catches, grip on his hair tightening. Victor whines, eyes never leaving his, waiting. He is quiet, vulnerable, fragile, sides of Victor Yuuri rarely gets to see, sides the rest of the world never will. The thought makes something saccharine and possessive sing within him and he wants to kiss him, gather Victor up in his arms and secret them away from the world like Victor has done for him so many times. The flush on Victor’s cheeks, the sweat curling the hair at his temples and his shortness of breath speaks of later. Yuuri loosens his hold and savours the feeling of silk like strands slipping between his fingers. Victor leans forward, his left hand grips tight to Yuuri’s hip as the other fumbles to release him from his clothes.

 

Victor’s mouth is on him before he has a chance to brace himself, eyes slipping closed. The hand in Victor’s hair clenches with a jolt and he moans, shuffling forward to take more of him. Yuuri is mesmerised by the dramatic sweep of Victor’s eyelashes against his flushed cheeks, his spit slick lips, cherry red and stretched around his cock. He tugs on Victor’s hair and groans as he picks up the pace, tongue trying to curl against the weight of him as Yuuri guides him with the hand clutching at his hair. Victor’s eyes blink open, his hand scrambles to grab at the wrist Yuuri has half buried in his hair, the other gripping his hip so hard it’s sure to bruise.

 

The position has him relinquish most of his control over his own movement. The sounds start to tumble from him, choked and desperate and when Yuuri catches on he picks up the slack, twisting silver strands to get deeper. Yuuri is distantly aware of his own noises, moans pitching higher as Victor’s moans and glassy blue eyes light their way into his bones.

 

Yuuri comes with Victor’s name on his lips. Victor whines around him, eyes slipping shut as he swallows, tastes him on his tongue. Yuuri’s hand in his hair loosens and guides him off his cock and Victor pants for breath. Yuuri mutters curses as he pulls away, transfixed as he watches Victor bring up his fingertips to touch his lips, tacky with remnants of spit and come; a vivid red. He blinks slow, dazed and content. Yuuri settles behind him, knees bracketing him where he sits. He moves to look at them both again in the mirror, stares. “Hi” he says as he meets Yuuri’s gaze in their reflection, he barely recognises his own voice, low and hoarse. “Hi” Yuuri replies, smiling so softly and Victor melts against him. “You okay?” Yuuri asks, their temples pressed together. Victor hums in response as Yuuri’s hand slips beneath his sweater, softly petting at his side. His other hand brushes the stray, sweat damp strands out of Victor’s face before his thumb swipes across his bottom lip. Victor’s tongue flicks out against it before he starts to suck on the tip of the digit.

 

Yuuri groans, burying his face in the crook of Victor’s neck, his hand grips his waist a little tighter. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles, biting at Victor’s shoulder and he feels Victor’s delighted chuckle as well as the moan when he bites at the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. He trails his other hand from Victor’s mouth down to the hardness in his lounge pants. “You didn’t-” Yuuri breathes and Victor shakes his head, mouth opening to reply but nothing but a choked off moan leaves him as Yuuri’s hand slips beneath the waistband.

 

He teases, his touch feather light because he can never get enough of Victor strung out and needy. He watches intently in the mirror as Victor’s head tilts back, the long delicious line of his throat littered with faint bite marks that Yuuri yearns to add to. His disheveled hair falls from his face, features sharp and graceful in his pleasure. “Yes... Please...” he begs and Yuuri grants him mercy, his pace increasing until Victor breathes his name and spills into his fist. His heart is beating painfully fast and Yuuri kisses him until it slows.

 

* * *

 

The warm lamp light graces Victor with a halo, he has the covers of their bed pulled all the way up to his chin and he smiles at Yuuri soft and smitten. “Are you- are you okay?” Yuuri asks again, finding his hand and entwining their fingers between them. Victor sighs and nods. “I’m sorry,” he says as if there’s even anything to be sorry for “I don’t know what-” he rambles and Yuuri can tell he’s starting to get worked up, anxious and confused. Yuuri squeezes his hand, the other coming up to cup Victor’s face.

“Vitya...” he says patiently and Victor quiets. “Was I complaining?” He asks an eyebrow raised, smirking. Victor smiles, huffs out a laugh when Yuuri’s hand slips back into his hair. He shuffles forward, snuggling into Yuuri as his hand cradles his head, playing lazily with his hair. “No” he mumbles, lips pressed to Yuuri’s shoulder.

 

“It- stop that.” Yuuri chides with a laugh as Victor starts scattering feather light kisses across his collarbone. “You don’t need to have everything figured out. We can do that together. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“You’ll meet me where I am.” Victor replies, voice quiet and awed. Yuuri nods.

“Happy?” He asks. Victor pulls back and rolls his eyes, a silent ‘of course isn’t it obvious?’ It earns him another tug on his hair for his cheek. He gives a startled whine and is instantly embarrassed, a blush blooming fast across his cheekbones. Yuuri’s laugh is raucous as he pulls him in for a kiss, smiling all the while.


End file.
